


Euphoria

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Nightmare Realm, Other, Pre-Wierdmageddon, Solo, excessive cum, fantasies, kind of??? only if you really stretch, outdoors, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ford had been spending who knows how long running from countless creatures and threats, and after a close call, it seems his heart can't take much more of this constant stress. The only thing he can think of doing is finding a way to release some endorphins, and in the process, he discovers something new about himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From a writing live stream I hosted! Posted here, on my tumblr --> http://banana-cakes-k.tumblr.com/post/154794220849/euphoria

Stan’s six fingers brushed delicately over the fly of his worn, dirt-stained khaki pants. There was a pause as his calloused index finger flicked over the pull of his zipper, hesitant. 

“Okay, Stanford,” The tired man hissed to himself. After years of mind-crippling loneliness, one learned to talk to themselves. “You just-.... Need to relax, that’s all. This is for your wellbeing, just, take a breath, and-” His heavy breath caught in his throat as he inhaled, dragging his fly down slowly and feeling the base of his spine prickle at the soft sound the motion produced.

He’d been on the run for god-knows how long, at this point. Ever since that horrible fight with his brother, something which he regretted more than anything, he’d been dodging danger left and right, cheating death and skipping along the delicate line of sanity and pure madness near endlessly. An hour ago he’d escaped a pack of blood-hungry mongrels that resembled rats, only littered with eyes, hundreds of them. The tiny creatures had more eyes than actual skin and more razor-blade teeth than mouth space. Ford had managed to duck into a cave that, thankfully, wasn’t just a humongous beast’s gaping maw, and settled down against the hard wall. 

His heart had been racing, and as he checked his pulse with two fingers, counted the beats, he realized that he needed to calm down, and soon. 

He combed a free, six-fingered hand through his hair and gave a nervous, exasperated laugh. He hadn’t done this sort of thing in goddamned years, why had it only occurred to him now? Oh, right, because any form of distraction in this hellish landscape could mean a sudden loss of a limb, or worse, death. 

But, Stanford was desperate, not to mention positively certain that he wouldn’t be able to keep moving without some sort of endorphin release, something to slow his heart down, just for a minute. 

He stared down at himself, at the barest bit of himself he had exposed. He wasn’t aroused, was in no way /ready/ for this sort of thing, but here he was. With a shaky, quiet groan of annoyance and uncertainty, he reached down, palmed at himself through the opened fabric of his jeans, and the confines of his boxers. 

It felt…. Vaguely nice, in an odd way, and for a brief moment Ford would dare say he was almost enjoying himself, if not for the sudden mind-bending screech that echoed through the thick nightmare’s air. He straightened up hard, yanked his hand back like a child who’d been caught stealing from a cookie jar and held his breath. 

His heart pounded. He heard the strange chittering of some sort of creature, large and menacing, just outside the confines of the cave, and he scrambled deeper into the damp confines of his shelter. The shadows hid him partially, and his vision adjusted to the dark, but when the creature finally passed Stanford didn’t feel his heart rate subside. Blood was rushing in his ears and his cheeks felt… hot. 

With a stifled noise of surprise he shifted his dark-adjusted gaze low, and stared at the slight tent in his boxers. ...What? Never, never before had anything even remotely similar to this feeling overtook him, and for an instant he was horrified, ashamed. 

Right up until he realized no one was watching. No one sentient, any way. 

He figured this reaction was his body’s way of making a shitty situation into a better one, no matter how twisted the result was. Perhaps some sick form of exhibitionism? No, no Stanford had never even /considered/ such a thing. Not even once! 

….Still, the issue between his legs remained. He drummed his fingers against the floor of the cave and knit his brow in thought. 

It was only when a second creature’s snarl broke the silence that Stanford jumped, hooking his fingers below the fabric of his boxers and pants and pushing them down his thighs, forcing a shudder up his spine as the cool air his his bare skin. “Alright,” He whispered to himself, the sounds of beasts communicating outside forcing adrenaline to spike through his veins, a short, shaky sigh to escape his lips. 

He drew up what courage he had and spat into his hand (he could’ve thought that one through a bit more, but hey, heat of the moment) letting his eyes close just briefly as he let his palm curl around his neglected erection. 

It was his first time in years, decades, maybe, and the overwhelming sensation of one odd hand was enough to make him hunch over just slightly, cup his free palm over his treacherous lips and bite into it. “God,” He hissed, moving carefully, experimentally at first, slowly pulling his fingers from his broad base, to sensitive head, giving a soft squeeze. 

It was /hot/. The monsters that waited for him outside hungered and prowled and hissed, but it wouldn’t deter Stanford, not any more. The horrifying noises outside seemed to egg him on, even, and the threat of being caught, of being shoved face-first into another life or death situation was absolutely /exhilarating/. 

Eventually, he developed a rhythm, somewhat slow, yet eager, with his wrist twisting after every other soft stroke, each of his six fingers varying their pressure against his throbbing erection. Finally, finally he was feeling good in this hellscape, and there was nothing those feral fuckers outside could do about it. 

Ford shifted, cracking his eyes open before he moved, no longer leaning against the wall of the cave but crouching over the floor of it, propping one elbow up against the bitingly cold ground and resting his clothing-bunched knees apart. This positon, of course, had its flaws, namely the fact that his mouth was no longer covered, and that if he needed to run, he’d trip over the pooled clothing around his legs, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not right now. 

Once again, he started up his slow rhythm, flicking his thick thumb over his sensitive head after the first long, careful stroke. He couldn’t help it, he loosed a sound. It was quiet, barely audible, really, but still there; the quietest curse, and a short hiss of breath. 

For an instant the growling outside stopped, and Stanford’s eyes snapped open wide. Had he been found? Did they know somehow? 

He spent a heated moment completely still, not moving an inch from his compromised position, keeping his slicked-up hand at his cock and just staring towards the gaping entrance of the cave. No signs of movement. No creatures. With a thick gulp, Stanford slowly let his slim hips rock forward, fuck into his curled palm, and the feeling was bliss. For a perfect moment he could imagine someone beneath him, a girl-.... No, he realized, just someone. Someone still, quiet, perfect. He stared down at the ground beneath him, and realized he was sweating, small drops briefly staining the cold floor. There was no one there, no perfect being, and for the slightest moment his heart sank.

‘Keep going,’ 

He could’ve sworn he heard a voice in that brief instant and it shook him to the core. He hadn’t heard any voice besides his own in… how long? He obliged the stranger, or rather, figment, curling his free hand into a tight fist as he rocked his hips forwards at a quicker pace. He could feel pre-come slicking his fingers, dripping down onto the floor beneath him and making every motion so much smoother, so much more intense. 

“Gh-... fuck-..” Ford gasped through clenched teeth. He didn’t care who heard him, if he was caught by those things. He didn’t care if he was ripped limb from limb right fucking there, it was too good, he wouldn’t give it up, not for anything. 

“Gonna-..” He was babbling now, incoherent and quiet, his breathless pants filling the cave as he rested his broad jaw against the cool stone, stared up nearly cross-eyed at nothing in particular. His cheeks burned.

“Hh-... c-close, close just a l-...little-.. O-oh god, god--..!” 

He didn’t realize he was grinning until he opened his mouth wide to offer up a low, eager moan, felt his dimpled cheeks, stretched from smiling, tug against the movement. One final thrust, one more tiny squeeze to that sensitive crown of his and he was gone, spilling his long-anticipated seed onto the floor beneath him with a nearly audible spurt. Too long, he reminded himself, it’s been too long. His vision flashed white, and his breath escaped him in a drawn-out sigh of bliss as his body let go for the first time in ages. 

He panted hard, and in his post euphoric state only barely realized the noise that was causing. Shifting backwards just a bit, he pulled his turtle-neck up and over his parted lips, stifling the sound. 

“Finally,” He huffed out, offering his quickly softening member a parting squeeze before leaning back, slumping against the cave wall. There was a puddle of white in front of him, larger than it should’ve been, and Stanford made a slight face of disgust. Yikes, too long indeed. With a short sigh, he pulled his sweater back down, and tucked his softened length back into his boxers, composing himself as best as he could before he stood. 

The amount of time it took for him to fall to the ground after that attempt was laughable, and Ford couldn’t help the tiny chuckle that escaped him. His legs were still shaking. He decided he could wait around for a minute longer, gather his bearings. 

He had a long journey still ahead of him, after all.


End file.
